Irish Hairdresser
My hearts pounding
Every hair stands
On end
Her beauty, my trap
So young and innocent
Double blades
Clipping
Hair today
Gone tommorow
Diced on the deck
Gleaming eyes
On her redhead
Feelings like this
Don't come often
Monthly, not soon enough
Seems like eternity
My growth is slow
I'm wanting to see her
Quickly
Rushing to the store
Rogaine is purchased
Grow
Grow
Grow
poem by Matt Mondschein
Added by Poetry Lover
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